


Ten Years Later

by StannisIsTheOneTrueKing



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: GoT spoilers, Post Season 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 04:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18985699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StannisIsTheOneTrueKing/pseuds/StannisIsTheOneTrueKing
Summary: Tyrion told Jon "Ask me again in ten years" Now, here it is. Ten years has passed since the end of the show, and now new threats and old threats threaten everyone. Can the survivors work together to once again save the day?





	Ten Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve read my other fanfics,just to let you know my GOT fics, The She-Wolves and The Game of Thrones, as well as my Umbrella Academy fics, will be getting updated shortly. Sorry for the delays, lots of time at work recently.
> 
> There’s two ways I could have taken this, I’ve decided to combine what I think is the most likely result of all of this and mix it with what the writers obviously intended their ending to be.

“Was it right? What I did?” Jon had asked him, eyes gaunt.

 

“What we did.” Tyrion corrected him.

 

“Doesn’t feel right.” Jon murmured, as if he had not heard the dwarf.

 

“Ask me again in ten years.” Tyrion said with a look of grim determination.

 

When Tyrion Lannister had said those words to the grieving Jon Snow, or Aegon Targaryen, whatever you wanted to call him, Tyrion hadn’t meant that they would exchange those words. Now, however, perhaps they might. It had been a decade since the end of the fighting and the bloodshed, and Westeros knew peace, or at least as close to true peace as the continent could achieve. Now he was riding North, through the Kingdom of the North towards the Wall.

 

“What’s on your mind, my lord?” Podrick Payne, the Kingsguard knight and old friend of Tyrion asked as he rode alongside him.

 

“Just the past, ghosts of what were, Pod.” Tyrion says dismissively. His hair was largely grey now, he was only in his forties, yet the life he’d lived, the pressure he’d faced, he felt twenty years older. He had wanted to ride out himself, slip away from the capital for a few months, try to rediscover his passion, but King Bran had insisted that as his Hand, he was too valuable, if he was to leave, and Bran was more than happy for that, he would have at least one member of the Kingsguard with him. Tyrion had chosen Podrick, his former squire and old friend.

 

“Do you want to talk about it, my lord?”

 

“Not now.” Tyrion told him. “Also, Pod, you’ve known me for nearly fifteen years. Call me Tyrion.”

 

“Alright my….Tyrion.” Pod smiled as they rode on again in silence. After a short while, Pod noticed a familiar sight ahead.

 

“Are we stopping at Winterfell?” Podrick asked him.

 

“I should hope so. Queen Sansa gave her blessing to cross her lands, I’m sure she would not begrudge us a day or two at Winterfell.” Tyrion said, gesturing to his small supply wagon to turn off the Kingsroad and head to Winterfell.

 

“What do you think the reception will be? After all, the North has no real love for the Southron Kingdoms.” Pod said. He wasn’t sure they’d be too welcome, even with a Stark ruling the South and their help to save the North from the threat of the White Walkers.

 

“I’m sure Sansa will be glad to see us, or at least hospitable. We have always had a good relationship, and she likes you, Pod.” Tyrion said. “You and Brienne saved and protected her, I’m sure even if I was not, you’d always be welcome for the night at Winterfell.”

 

“Let’s just see what Queen Sansa says first.” Podrick smiled, as the small wagon train approached the gates of the great castle.

 

“Halt!” One of the guards called. “We weren’t told to expect visitors today, state your names and business.”

 

“Lord Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King to His Grace, Brandon Stark, and Ser Podrick Payne of the Kingsguard, here to meet Her Grace, Sansa Stark.” Tyrion called, as the two guards looked over at them.

 

“Go see if Her Grace expects them.” The first told his colleague, who rushed to go find out.

 

“Wait here.” The first said, hand on the hilt of his sword.

 

After a few minutes which felt like hours to Tyrion, the second guard returned, nodding to his fellow guard.

 

“Alright, the Queen says they’re welcome to enter. We’ll be watching you though.” He said as he waved for the gates to be opened so the wagon train could proceed into Winterfell.

 

“Thank you.” Tyrion nodded to the men as he and Pod rode ahead.

 

As they approached the gates of the keep itself, the two men dismounted their steeds, passing the reins to a pair of stable boys stood awaiting them. Smiling, they walked up the few stairs to the door of the great hall and pushed it open, as the door opened, they saw the court of Winterfell before them, a few dozen Lords and Ladies watched their every move as they marched into the hall, heading towards the head table where sat Queen Sansa Stark, First of Her Name, Queen of the First Men, Lady of the North and Protector of the Realm. Reaching the head table, Tyrion and Pod both knelt.

 

“Your Grace.” Both men said at the same time as the Northerners watched them, before Sansa broke out into a smile.

 

“Tyrion, Podrick, please, you’re friends of the Crown. Stand, join us for a feast.”

 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tyrion said as the two men stood. Looking around the room, the Northern court still looked decidedly uneasy with them.

 

“Now, tell me, why is my brother’s hand and a member of his Kingsguard so far North? I wasn’t aware you were planning to visit, after all.” Sansa told them.

 

“We’re headed to the Wall.” Tyrion told her. 

 

“Why would that be? The Wall serves no real purpose now.”

 

“I had told your brother before he was sent, a decade as Hand, and I’d fancy a piss off the edge of the world. I intend to keep that.” Tyrion joked. After a moment, Sansa cracked a smile and the Northern lords also smiled.

 

“I see you still haven’t lost your wit, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa beamed.

 

“Nor you, Your Grace.” Tyrion replied.

 

“You may stay at Winterfell whenever you need, My Lord.” Sansa informed him. “You also, Ser Podrick. You are both friends of The North in perpetuity for your help over the years. I assume you’re actually headed North to go visit Jon?”

 

“I am, your Grace.” Tyrion said. “I figured I owed him a visit, especially after all these years.”

 

“He’s unlikely to see you, you know.” Sansa informed them. “After he reached the Wall, he headed with Tormund and the Free Folk into the lands beyond the Wall, after all, there was no need for a Night’s Watch anymore. I’ve been to visit a few times, I never get past the Wall. He doesn’t want to see anyone from...well, before. He’s happy in his new life apparently. He likely won’t see you either, Tyrion.” Sansa warned him.

 

“What does he do up there?” Tyrion asked softly.

 

“I’ve not seen him, all I know comes from people like Tormund. Apparently he helps build homes for the Free Folk, he’s their leader, and he’s happy. I don’t know much about what he does up there, but I believe them, he’s happy and I don’t want to talk that happiness from him, especially with what he gave up to ensure everyone else had peace and relative happiness.” Sansa said.

 

“Hopefully he’ll see me.” Tyrion said. “I have a proposition for him.”

 

“If you’re going to offer him a way to leave his post, I’ll tell you now, you’re wasting your time, Tyrion. Jon believes he deserves to be punished for what he did. He won’t head South ever again.” Sansa told him.

 

“We’ll see.” Tyrion said with a tight smile. Maybe Sansa was right, maybe Jon wouldn’t be willing to head back South of the Wall again with him. He had to try though, Bran would need Jon in the wars to come, because Tyrion knew, war was coming.

 

/

 

Arya looked out over the Sunset Sea once more. She had sailed for years and years now, with brief stops on islands that dotted here and there on the sea, most uninhabited, fortunately most with resources such as food and timber, and on she sailed with her small crew. 

 

“Land ahead, My Lady!” One of the boatswains said as they sailed, Arya looking over the bow to see a large, looming landmass ahead, partly covered in fog, Arya could make out tall mountains, smoke around it, the place looked...evil. Arya could feel a chill run up her spine looking at it.

 

“Do we have anywhere around here charted?” Arya asked.

 

“No, My Lady. This place...it feels...”

 

“Wrong?” Arya asked as the man nodded.

 

“Evil.” He agreed.

 

“Should we get closer?” Another man asked on the deck, looking fearful at the prospect of approaching any closer to the land.

 

Considering it for a moment, Arya shook her head. 

 

“No, to venture close, when our entire bodies are telling us not too, is a fools errand. Sail past it, see if we can find any local people, see what they can tell us about it first.” Arya said as her crew hurried to steer the ship away from the fog and the looming darkness ahead of them.

 

The ship sailed on, the feeling of oppressive darkness fading the further away from the mist they sailed, after what felt like an eternity to Arya, they spotted something they had rarely encountered in the past decade. A small village by the coast.

 

As their small boat anchored and they started to lower a rowboat so that they could approach the small jetty, Arya noticed movement ahead, as they got nearer, they saw men armed with spears, aiming them at the approaching Northerners. The lead man looked her directly in the eye as she sailed within earshot with her men.

 

“Who are you?” The man asked.

 

“You speak the Common tongue?” Arya asked in surprise.

 

“Yes, I speak your Westerosi language. You’re not the first from there we have seen. You all look alike. Why are you here?” The man asked, brandishing his spear, his companions doing the same.

 

“We mean you no harm.” Arya said, raising her arms and gesturing for the others to do the same.

 

“Why have you come here?” The man repeated, lowering his spear slightly.

 

“We are on a great expedition to head West, to see what lies beyond our lands. How is it you know of Westeros?” Arya asked with some confusion.

 

“This is a rural outpost, but if you head West for another day, you will find yourself in the great city of Asshai.” The man told them to shock.

 

“So, West of Westeros...is Essos?” One of Arya’s companions asked.

 

“We could have gotten here faster going East, at least the way was charted.” Another grumbled.

 

“What’s with the fog in the mountains to the East?” Arya asked the locals, ignoring the grumbling of her men. Yes, it sucked, but now they could sail West to get home, and they knew what was West of Westeros.

 

“The dark place. We do not venture there. We are the furthest Eastern outpost and even we do not dare. It is a place of great calamity and evil.” The man said as the others looked frightful.

 

“May we dock here for supplies?” Arya asked, filing their reactions away for later.

 

“You may but be quick. If you have been near that cursed land, we do not want you here longer than needed. Be gone within an hour.” The man said, gesturing for his men to pull back and leave the Northerners be.

 

/

 

Bran wheeled around the Red Keep, having listened to the latest Small Council meeting. Brienne had just left the room after being dismissed.

 

“Soon, it shall all fall into place.” Bran mused aloud to himself. “Soon, I shall have it all.” He said, his eyes flashing icy blue.


End file.
